


A sunburned country in another galaxy...

by shihadchick



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-02
Updated: 2006-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A campfire tale in Pegasus...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A sunburned country in another galaxy...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kathalcyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathalcyon/gifts).



It is supposed to be a quiet weekend for them all, a retreat away from the pressures of Atlantis. The long range sensors show nothing urgent, no threats to the city, and those newer arrivals have been left with firm instructions - in writing as well as several lectures from McKay that everyone else is pretending they couldn't hear from halfway to the jumper bay - to radio in at the slightest hint of trouble.

The mainland is warm, heat a tangible pressure after the climate controlled cool of Atlantis, the sky streaking gold and blue as it gets later, though the temperature doesn't drop much at all. It's quiet other than the faint sussuration of alien insects (something which keeps Colonel Sheppard, at least, a little on edge, after all this time, though it bothers the others not so much) and they make camp (something which has half their party complaining creatively and at length, though even they know bone-deep that if they had stayed in the city - with real beds and roofs, and yes, Rodney, four walls, get over it already - they would not have had half the break they will out here) in a neat clearing the Athosians had marked out for them, near to running water and a pre-laid firepit.

Elizabeth has even scrounged the makings of s'mores for them from somewhere, handing out marshmallows and chocolate with a queer kind of ceremony, something that keeps hands and mouths occupied for several long, contented minutes.

Broken, of course, by Rodney, who cannot quite restrain himself from teasing Zelenka again for the tumble he'd taken earlier, tripping over a rock, or his own feet, or possibly Elizabeth's (this is Rodney's theory, one that earns him glares from two directions, though they _had_ been walking awfully closely at the time) and ending up sprawled full length in the stream, indignity from head to toe.

Zelenka tosses a marshmallow at him, scoring a direct hit on his nose which is, of course, a tactical error because rather than taking the invitation Rodney merely salutes him with a brief finger wave, grins evilly and devours the marshmallow himself.

No one else looks even remotely surprised.

They find themselves huddling a little closer as it gets truly dark, talk slowing and quieting, the draw of bed and uninterrupted sleep beckoning (the Athosians having agreed to take watch for the evening, and Halling under strict orders as well to inform them should the city radio for them). And, struck by a sudden recollection, Radek looks around, surveying the faces of the people there with him, his new family of sorts. Bound by blood and other things less visible, well and truly by this stage.

He reaches out with the sturdy toasting stick, stirring around the edges of the fire, dislodging a piece of native wood in a shower of sparks which rise like fireflies. "This place, where we are. Do you know what it reminds me of?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. "It is like... Australia. The heat, the way the sky-" he waves upwards, in illustration, none of them need more than that, and Sheppard interjects with a brief, wry grin, "the potential for surfing?" and Zelenka grins back at him, agreeing, even as the others chime in with their own observations ("the bugs" "the lack of intelligent native life", that last obviously a Kiwi).

"I was... stationed, in Australia, once. Well, not stationed, precisely. Passing through. Northern Queensland," and they're nodding at him, waiting for him to continue, and he should feel a little guilt at telling this story now, with this mood, yet he does not. "Fellow scientists and I, we thought- we should take a trip. So different from home, worth looking at. See some of this scenery they talk so much about, spend all the money advertising. So we go out on the river, this old paddle steamer, beautiful old lady from the last century," and he's getting into the story now, building an image of her with his hands, the Lady Douglas, elegant in her lines.

"They take us out through to the mangroves, we look at the animals, the plants, is all very interesting and just as you would expect, and then they announce 'who would like to feed the crocodiles', very funny, we say, but move to the side of the boat and there they are. Low and dangerous in the water, rippling around the boat. Huge creatures, I never would have realised they're so big, even on the television. They know to expect a treat there, the Captain tells us."

He pauses to wet his throat, tossing back the moonshine like it's water, choosing his words carefully.

"One of the other men, he is on his honeymoon, new wife, very lovely. He volunteers to throw the steak to the crocodiles, I think he thought it would impress his wife. Brave, manly, stupid, you know the type." Not that he's looking at Colonel Sheppard at this point at all.

"And then," casual shrug, very matter of fact, biting at his lip for a second, "he slips."

There's no gasp, no outcry around the campfire at this point, they were all half-expecting it anyway, he knows, being intelligent people. Though the silence has a new quality, something with intent.

"Of course, the crew try to save him, to pull him back into the boat, but a monster has him immediately, twice as big as any of the other animals. One they've not seen often before, but at least it will be easy to identify, they say, they take us back to the dock, and then set out to hunt down the croc. This is standard, in such situations, we are told. We will not recover the man, but his body, yes, and once a crocodile has the taste, they say, it cannot be allowed to hunt freely. The local authorities spend the next day out in the swamps, hunting. Their guides track down the crocodile, a huge bull croc, and they assure the wardens that yes, this is the one, this must be the one which devoured my countryman. And after a chase, they catch the crocodile, kill it. Haul it onto the boat and cut it open to retrieve the body, so that we may bury him properly."

Expectant little pause to the silence now, waiting for more horror, because this is the Pegasus galaxy, and things are never so easy as they appear at first glance.

"They find fish. Scraps. Few chickens from the boats earlier. Nothing human. The native guides from the tourist boat, they are confused, because they do not think there can be another crocodile in the area so big, they were so sure it was this one who took him, this vicious bull. And they hunt some more, out in the boats for two days more, then three. And then they catch sight of another crocodile finally, as big as the first, obviously female. Its mate. They shoot this one, too, after some debate. Bring the body up, to find, yes-- it is this beast who killed him, his body inside her belly. Very distressing. Very unpleasant."

He shakes his head, as if throwing off the memories, before looking around the circle of concerned faces, all obviously waiting for him to finish the story.

Radek smiles ruthlessly at Rodney, who's sat pressed up against John, hand unobstrusively on his knee, barely visible in the flickering firelight. Rodney looks uncomfortable, sympathy darting uneasily across his face, obviously not sure what to make of this.

"Ah, and you see, at least- we learned something from all, this, yes? A moral for the story?"

Elizabeth shoots him a look, narrowed eyes, and oh, yes, he'll be paying for this later.

"Never trust an Australian when he tells you the Czech is in the male."

Possibly they can hear the shrieks of outrage all the way over in the Athosian settlement. Certainly, Radek Zelenka's reacquaintance with the creek down the path from their campsite is equally rapid and involuntary as the first, though he supposes it is for the best that they all get it out of their systems immediately. Better not to spend the remainder of the week anticipating vengeance at every turn, after all. Especially not with the creative minds on this lot.

  
* *

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse. I'm very sorry. I am a _bad person._ In my defense, it was originally an Aussie who told us this joke.


End file.
